The Master's Nightmare
by The Hark-ness monster
Summary: The Master still has dreams about the drums. Usually the Doctor helps him forget the noise was ever there, but other times he is part of the nightmare. Implied Doctor/Master.


Doctor Who

A Doctor/Master fan fiction

The Master's Nightmare

I am the Master; well, not quite. There is something missing now, a piece of my soul, ripped from my head. It is now just an echo, buried deep in my chest.

_1-2-3-4._

The doctor pulled me away from the time lock just as it was about to close. After that I was a half-insane unconscious mess. I don't know what happened. I woke up in the TARDIS with a different Doctor. He was a new man. I wasn't there when he regenerated.

I still have dreams sometimes, about the drums. Being with the Doctor, it helps, but nothing will ever completely wash that sound from my mind. I'm still diseased, tainted, but the Doctor puts up with me. I thank the stars every day for that.

The drums are an idea, a ghost in my mind now that haunts my every breath, like something from another dimension lurking over my shoulder. It's still there but it is no longer tangible. Sometimes I think this is worse.

When I sleep and dream of that sound I am the Master once again…or am I?

_Inhale… _1-2-3-4.

_Exhale…_ 1-2-3-4.

_The pattern continues for a while in the darkness, but then something else appears, rising out of the shadows; the Doctor. I think that he could be my salvation from this nightmare, but even he cannot stop the burning, pounding, painful tapping on the inside of my skull._

_ The beat goes on._

_ Inhale…_1-2-3-4.

_Exhale… _1-2-3-4.

_Then, my doctor speaks to me, his voice rises above the noise but still it pounds on in the distance._

_ He is a dark shadow with a silver silhouette._

_ "Master…Master…Master," he repeats my name. I sigh at the sound of it on his lips. I want to move closer to the figure of him but I stop dead when he speaks again._

_ "But you're not a Master at all are you?" I freeze, my heart stops cold, but the drums beat on. _1-2-3-4.

_My eyes are on him, burning, waiting for him to continue, to tell me it's not true._

_ "Master, Master," he mocks me now, "But you're not. You're just a slave. A slave to the drums. Doing what they wish, not what you wish. They own you," he growls. I clench my fists and teeth and nearly growl back._

_ "Stop it," I hiss._

_ "It's true," he says in his typical, obnoxious 'Doctor' voice. "You don't even know what it's like to think. Because you can't even hear your own thoughts over that noise. It's not you who came up with all those brilliant plans, that was just the drums tapping out that rhythm and telling you what to do. You're a puppet. A stupid, lifeless puppet." He sounds angry, yelling at me now. The Doctor is never angry, but I still believe everything he says._

_ His last words cut deep into my mind as they slide across the black nothing that surrounds us. "You're not a Master…you're a-"_

_ "No!" I scream, louder than the drums, and for a second they stop._

_ But then they keep on and insanity prevails. It wins, it wins, it owns my soul. A knife materializes in my hand. I lunge for the shadowy figure of the Doctor. Plunging the blade into his chest, I feel as though I have cut through his soul. It goes all the way through his heart and out the other side._

_ My blood-soaked hand grabs his shoulder and lowers him to the ground, if there even is one. Only when a ray of light wipes the shadow from his face do I realize what I've done._

_ "Slave," he pulls me down and whispers in my ear. His breath leaves him. He dies. I wait but he does not regenerate. I am completely alone and I sob in the darkness. _

_ As I cry over his corpse, much like he did for me on _the Valliant, _the awful drums beat louder, louder, louder, LOUDER. So loud it hurts and my skull cracks, my ears bleed. My blood mixes with that of my dear, sweet, dead Doctor. But the sound just keeps getting louder…_

I awake. Screaming, I bolt upright, clutching and clawing at my throbbing head.

"No!" I yell into the darkness, though it is a different kind of darkness now. "Get out of my head!" I cry. "Get out of my head…" My screams turn to whimpers.

I barely notice the Doctor sit up beside me.

"Master! You're alright, Master. Look at me." His hands are on my face, shoulders, arms, but my face is covered by my shaking hands.

"No, Doctor! No! Get away from me!" I explode, swatting at him. A look of horror is on his face. I reel away from him and scrutinize my hands. "Blood…so much…blood." I think I see it, still there, clinging to my fingers in sticky crimson spilled from the Doctor's veins. I squint at the darkness…maybe it isn't really there…the illusion dissipates.

My breathing is heavy, sweat in a sheen across my forehead. "Who am I?" I ask the man across from me. "Who am I!" I scream.

The doctor stares at me with the saddest, deepest concern and replies calmly, "You are the Master."

I sigh at the reassurance. I am the Master, I repeat to myself. Not a slave. "Master…what's wrong?"

He dares not move closer. I don't blame him. I shiver though I am far from cold.

I manage to compose myself, breathing deeply, and I finally gain perspective of where I am. I am with the Doctor, in our bed, safe inside the TARDIS. The dream is far away, locked up in my head in the dark somewhere.

"I…I'm sorry," I manage to choke out, shaking my head.

"No, don't apologize." He is close against me now. Instinctively I flinch. "Tell me what happened," he whispers. His gentle breath floats across my face as he presses his forehead to mine. His hand is on the back of my neck to hold me against him.

"No, it's stupid," I turn from him, shame clear on my face.

"No, it's not stupid. You just woke up screaming in the middle of the night," he said, voice full of concern. "I want to know what happened."

The events I encountered in my sleep are the last thing I want to discuss right now.

"Just forget it," I tell him, avoiding his eyes.

I lay back down slowly and sink into the mattress, feeling as though my hearts weigh a thousand pounds each. He joins me and curls up against my back. I feel his breath on the back of my neck and there he presses his lips in a warm, comforting kiss. His hand is on my side and traces circles in a soothing pattern.

Maybe the Doctor does know when to shut up.

His warmth pressed against me draws me back into sleep slowly and I try desperately to fight it. No, I don't want to go back there, not yet. Let me stay here with my Doctor. No more drums. Please…But right before I give in and let fatigue claim me, I swear I hear the Doctor behind me whisper "slave" across my skin.


End file.
